Who Am I Now?

A piece I wrote for class, about an epiphany

Who Am I Now?

"I can't stand to lose her again. It hurt too much the third time, and I can't bear to do it again. It's just too much for my heart to go through," I told Tom. I was talking about Maia, my childhood friend. Who is also my ex, three times. I don't know what it is about her, but I can't stop my thoughts from straying to her when I'm bored in class and decide not to pay attention.
Maia was 5'3", skinny but gracefully muscular. She had chestnut brown hair that gained bright blonde highlights naturally in the summer, and chocolate brown eyes that I could get lost in if I'm not careful. She has a kind personality, but can be a wild child sometimes. If you make her angry, well, you'd better watch out. She is violent, too. She is beautiful, and I'm in love with her. There's nothing to be done about it.
            "Well, why not ask her to be your girl again, then?" Tom asked. He looked confused, as to why this creature wasn't mine anymore.
            "One, because she lives in another state; two, I'm dating Angel. Or did you forget already?" I shot him daggers for even asking such a stupid question. He was oblivious, though, because he was thinking about Maia. I can't blame him though. She's a sweetheart, and a lot of other guys really like her.
            There's a long and painful history between Maia and I. We've dated three times, and broken up three times. The first time was in 8th grade when she was a 7th grader. She was absolutely adorable back then, and i couldn't resist asking her out. We dated for a while, but once when she came to my house, we were making out in my bedroom and I was making lunch for us. It was grilled cheese, and thank god we had a working stove in the basement. I flipped the sandwiches and had a sip of my Full Throttle and went back to find her curled on her side on my bed, smiling seductively.
            I have corrupted this girl, and I love it. Her parents may hate me for it, but I love it, and she loves it too. I can tell.
            She got up and met me in the doorway, wrapping her arms around my neck and smiling, brushing her lips against mine before giving in and crushing her lips to mine. I wouldn't have been surprised if her lips were bright red or even bruised, with the way she was kissing me. I responded in kind, kissing her hungrily, like I would never see her again.
            She pressed her body closer to mine, and I guided us blindly to the bed. I gently lowered her and slowly laid on top of her, my mouth finding hers again. The kiss started soft, sweet and slow. But as the minutes passed by, they grew more urgent, demanding, and hungry. My hands traveled the length of her sides and up her stomach. As my hands wandered over her body, she slowed the kisses, but they were more passionate than before.
            My fingers reached the bottom of her bra, slipping under and brushing the bottom of her chest. She gasped lightly, moaned quietly and bit my bottom lip. She shivered in pleasure as I danced my fingers over the soft skin.
            The door was shut and we were alone, obviously. But then, she had to use the bathroom. So she got up, and tried to open the door. But, there was a throw rug on top of the rug and the door got stuck. So she kept trying to open it but when I did open, a piece of the door chipped and she kept apologizing.
                                   *******
            Later that night, she called me to say hi and see what was going on with the door; she was completely unprepared for what I had to tell her.
            "Hey! What's going on with the door? I'm still really sorry about that..." her voice trailed off.
            "Hey," I began. My eyes were full of anger and my mind was clouded with sadness. "I'm so sorry..." It took her a few minutes to respond, and I could almost see the puzzled look on her face.
            "What's wrong..." she asked.
            "My mom... She told me to break up with you. I'm so sorry Maia. I re-" She cut me off.
            "Don't. I understand." I could hear the pain heavily saturating her voice. The next time she spoke, I could hear the tears that were falling in her voice, and her words cut through me like ice.
            "I have to go," she said. "I'll talk to you later I guess..." Her voice was barely a whisper and before I could say anything else, I heard the definitive click of her phone hanging up.

           *******4 Years Later*******

            I’m going to assume he’s at work, like he usually is... I thought.   I texted him to prove my theory false, but he responded about five minutes later.  “Who is this?” he asked.  I told him it was me, Maia.  I asked if it was Amergin.  He said it was, and asked what I was up to.  We settled into an old, familiar conversation.  We talked about everything from school to wolves, Doctor Who to relationships.  He remembered things I never would have, little things from when we were still Us.

We turned to talking about who we were, one, two, three even four years ago, when we first met.  He’s the simple hard-working church guy, a gentleman to the core.  He hasn’t changed much, just matured beyond his time. 

In the middle of our conversation, however, our song started roaring in my ears trough my brand-new lime green headphones.  “Would you go with me, If we rolled down streets of fire? Would you hold onto me tighter, As the summer sun got higher? If we rolled from town to town, And never shut it down.”  Josh Turner’s voice rumbled through me like thunder, threatening an oncoming storm. It was then that I could feel the tears running in single salty tracks, a silent race down the hills of my cheekbones.  The heat of anger swelled in my face, the tears the anguish I could feel in my heart. Words could never explain how I truly felt right then, right there, in that one moment. 

Nothing would ever be the same.